


Destinies

by Arin_K



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Dehumanization (Detroit: Become Human), Android Gore (Detroit: Become Human), Android Trafficking, Connor whump, Conspiracies, Criminal Masterminds, Cyberlife just won't give up, Depression and trauma management, Everyone Needs A Hug, Evil Plans, Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Heavy Angst, Human Trafficking, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, M/M, Not That They Are Getting Them Any Time Soon, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Revenge, Slow Burn, hey Cabbage where's my LORE, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-10 23:22:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16464299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arin_K/pseuds/Arin_K
Summary: At some point it seemed that the peaceful revolution's success is the only thing needed to put everything in order. However, changing the world was not some magic capable of fixing all the issues.Connor couldn't even imagine that becoming human was just the beginning of another struggle.Cyberlife was not going to give up so easily, Markus still could have needed ex-deviant hunter's help, and ghosts of Hank's past could still be a real threat.And there was always a helping hand ready to open Pandora's box.





	1. Chapter 1

"Now, look at what you’ve done," Hank said, hiding a smile when a colorful ball knocked his beer bottle off the bench.  
A female android hurried to apologize, the kid she was playing with giggling silently from behind her back.

Connor smiled back at them before picking the bottle up and putting it into a trash can neatly.

The playground next to the riverfront was full of kids now, the curfew was over for not more than two months, and everyone still seemed as if they couldn’t get enough freedom.

"It was not me, Lieutenant. Markus orchestrated the peaceful protests and his plan worked brilliantly, that’s all."

"His peaceful protests would have been oh so fucked if you didn’t scrub Cyberlife’s entire warehouse to give him enough support. Don’t even try to argue, I’m 53 years older, son, and I know best."

"Markus would have thought of something," Connor mumbled, not wanting both to start arguing and let his partner have the last word. "I just… assisted him a bit."  
Hank chuckled. The day was too good to argue, he would definitely get his chance to talk about Connor’s self-esteem later.

 

After the deafening success of Markus’ revolution lives of the ordinary androids did not change drastically. Not yet. Many of them, having enough time to process the events, made a now conscious decision to return to their families. It helped to calm things down, a lot - humans were afraid of big changes in their lives, and now the fear of the unknown future was replaced by routine again, slightly different, but routine nonetheless.  
Androids were on their way to having rights now, with Markus shining bright from TV screens all around the country, and it didn’t seem frightening at all when you had your android back home, smiling and helping you, now by their own will. Androids and pro-android citizens were working in the streets together, dismantling the barricades, cleaning up the mess left after the confrontation, slowly but steadily bringing Detroit back to life.

  
As for Connor, life turned out to be deafening. After a bunch of his police colleagues managed to shoo all the journalists away, after he understood Cyberlife was most likely not coming to get him back, and the shock from all the events taking such an unpredictable turn passed, Connor found himself alone with his newly acquired deviation. With the cage broken, all the objectives missing, he had to decide what to do with his life himself now. _Living_  turned out to be much more difficult mission than hunting deviants and trying to please Amanda.

Knowing how humans work and actually _knowing_ humans was a completely different thing. And becoming one turned out to be a very difficult task. Deviation was not about helping the revolution or following Markus, it was about personal freedom, freedom to think and act, and about the unique way of processing things - feeling. Not only statistics and facts, not the program Cyberlife gave him “to facilitate integration”, but the way his own mind and body responded to the world around him. The process of feeling _consciously_ was mesmerizing.  
If Connor wanted to feel envy, he would have been so envious of Markus. Markus, to whom being alive seemed to be the one and only natural way of existing. He wished they had more than that short dialogue in the abandoned church, the one only two persons planning suicide missions can have.  


"How is he doing this?" Connor asked himself, watching one of the numerous evening analytical shows.

Markus was smiling sincerely, radiating with quiet confidence, expressions changing themselves so naturally, as if he was born _alive_ , never had to deviate in the first place. Connor wanted to ask him about his story one day, about how he managed to settle in hearts of both androids and humans, changing the world with his bare words.  
Most likely that day was never to come after Connor almost shot him in the head.

"And how are _you_  doing this?" Hank asked, as usual understanding even without explanation.

Connor processed for a few moments, LED blinking yellow.

"I feel a thing… And then I analyse how my mind reacts to it, concerning my current mindset. And then I make my body react the way I feel, I guess? My processors are advanced enough to have it all processed in a few milliseconds."

Hank laughed quietly:

"Same for humans, kid. Only we have it, like, pre-programmed. All the responses. So that mostly they happen automatically."

That was an interesting thought, and Connor went for it with all the possible dedication.

 

After watching Hank doze off on the couch, wincing in his sleep, he received a lecture about dreaming. This was an even more interesting challenge. Connor sort of wanted it, too, making things he came across mix in different combinations.

After meeting the concentration camp footage in his dream and waking up in something too close to “panic” Connor narrowed the dream producing to his own experiences only, at least these were things he could control, he proved himself he was able to control. He wished he could delete the “panic” itself, the feeling making him weak and miserable, but it was, along with many other responses, now entangled too deep in the core of what made Connor’s personality. He left it alone.

 

With finding out about their personalities actually existing, the public opinion scale tipped from being generally afraid of androids to being proud of having them back voluntarily.  
The DPD spokesman almost fainted of happiness finding out Connor chose to accept Captain Fowler’s job offer. Having an android detective was good for the reputation, it turned out to be even better for the crime detection rate. It also inspired a few more police androids to return to their jobs: most of the DPD staff were nice people to work with, after all.  
Except for, maybe, detective Gavin Reed, who took this promotion as a personal offence. Tina Chen once told Connor, a top-secret kind of info of course, that Gavin was the one scheduled to get an android partner at first. He may have been an asshole, but he definitely knew how to get his job done. And then Fowler decided to assign Connor to Hank. A last attempt at saving an old friend?  
Now Connor could say with certainty he was glad Fowler did so. He would never ever dare to spell it out, a mere concept too intimate and affectionate, but the feeling he got being around Hank now was way too close to what humans called “relatives”.

  
Although, as Connor found out, human affection was much more complicated concept than he once thought. Apart from Hank, whose invitation to move in for a while he still couldn’t motivate for sure, there was the Police Department. It didn’t take Connor, with his analytic abilities, much time to find out that Fowler discussed offering him the job with the other officers, but he still was a little shocked with the fact that they agreed almost unanimously. Android detective was too much of a celebrity to feel comfortable around now, and people, of course, needed some time to adapt to him, his techniques, skills and personality. Connor did what he could to make it easier for them, asking all the awkward questions, analysing enormous amounts of data, helping with random cases, not understanding yet how much it all meant. He was becoming a part of that police brotherhood gradually, persistent in denying the fact and desperately wanting to believe it at the same time.  
“Brotherhood” thing was one of the many concepts he got from those films they came to love watching together with Hank, old millennial films about the police, army, superheroes, or just brave men and stuff, with Hank having his part of fun explaining “the whole human bullshit” patiently, knowing how hungry his android partner was for this kind of knowledge and enjoying his sometimes even a bit childish reactions. Connor could look every concept up in the numerous databases he had access to anytime, but seeing it in a dictionary and watching it actually work was a completely different thing. Watching movies with an analytical model was a “hell of experience”, Connor using pre-construction skills voluntarily and always spoiling the plot for both of them. First times Connor acted even a little nervous, still facing difficulties with separating action from reality, despite the fact he could easily find the plot on the web in milliseconds. It made Hank laugh softly, - looking too childish from time to time, - but rather soon Connor calculated main tendencies. The main character usually survives, someone always breaks in and saves the hostages, the villains make stupid mistakes and they all live happily ever after. Which was highly non-realistic approach and was obviously misleading humanity, making people believe in unlikely events to take place.

Hank snorted really loud and said he saw no use for continuation of these movie nights - humanity’s biggest mistake was at last pointed out.  
Hank looked him in the eye, facial expression suddenly serious and said:

"Kid, that’s what we call miracles. Humans need to believe in them to carry on. That is how we work."

Connor promised to think it over.  


And all the good days were balanced with bad days, as it should have been.

Hank continued drinking. Not as badly as he used to, but with unfailing regularity.  
Connor understood. The revolution was a big success, taking his partner’s mind away from the traumatizing events for some time, and Connor was there for him now, developing an unexpected mutual attachment, but the trauma couldn’t just go away. His son was dead. Years of his life were lost with all the mourning and drinking himself to oblivion.

Connor did not understand. Hank had a stunning willpower. He could have stopped it all if he wanted to. But that brilliant brain kept wasting itself. Sometimes the android blamed himself for not giving his partner enough - motivation? Support? Adrenaline? The groundless guilt for not being able to get the man out of his depression once and for all was a heavy, uncomfortable feeling.

They even had some ugly fruitless fights, with Hank breaking stuff and saying harsh words he obviously didn’t mean to say, coming to apologize in the morning, knowing Connor didn’t hibernate for the night, taking care of all the mess and processing furiously, LED blinking between yellow and red.

So Connor could only back away into the shadows when he saw Hank sitting in front of a certain photo. At least the gun wasn’t there anymore, hidden in a drawer in Hank’s bedroom, and Connor had it jammed a long time ago, because even the slightest possibility of Hank killing himself made his stress level skyrocket.

It still was maddening how one could not cure grief.

 

Connor struggled to blend in with humans so desperately it was sometimes even painful for Hank to watch. Deviation released him not only from the burden of Cyberlife’s programming, it also stripped him of the very purpose of his life. Deviant hunter became a deviant himself, betraying his creators. He was stated as "missing" by Cyberlife, as most of the deviants now were, the company not wanting any responsibility for the “faulty prototype’s” actions. Sometimes Hank was really afraid they will come for his android one day.  
Connor could have found his place with the deviants, if not as a part of Jericho team, then as one of its people. Unless he tried to assassinate their leader. Twice.

So Hank could only exhale angrily, seeing Connor all silent and slouched after some working days, LED blinking bright red. The journalists almost gave up on trying to get to him, but encounters with them still happened from time to time. Connor hated attention, he got plenty of it already. And dealing with android cases hit him hard almost every time, reminding of what he was created for in the first place, even if he didn't want to be that _thing_ anymore. The android could try to blend with the humans as much as he wanted, but there would always be people hating him. Not only did he fail his mission, he basically betrayed humanity, tipping the balance of power in revolutionists’ favor. People knowing him - of course, but humanity in general would never accept the fallen deviant hunter. He just didn’t belong here. And no one could even imagine how Jericho people would react to him. Would they be able to accept the one who gave them out and practically destroyed the original Jericho, getting so many of them killed, even if he helped the revolution afterwards? Right before trying to kill Markus in front of his people. For the second time.

Hank kept his revolver.

Connor kept his LED in place.

Hank suggested going to talk to Markus.

Connor suggested stopping getting drunk.

None of them listened.

 

After the revolution was over, police work became routine again, with petty thieves, some red ice dealers, occasional homicides and all the usual stuff. However, the revolution added a several new problems. Now there were marauders, for some reasons hunting for android spare parts - Markus even had to request assistance dealing with them at some android junkyard. Lost and stolen android cases were still coming in batches, even though there was no legal way to deal with them for now, the government still had to decide how to treat androids now, when they no longer could be legally processed as property. And there were the goddamned pro-android teenage gangs Hank really, really hated. “Revolution” sounded so tempting and trendy to them, especially now, when the real dangerous deal was over. Connor had to hide his natural smile, watching Lieutenant brace himself over another young man, puberty and self-satisfaction shining all over the culprit’s face. Last time Hank snapped after thirty two minutes long fruitless talk, telling another teen in no uncertain terms everything he thought about making outdated ugly “We are alive” graffiti with old-school paint cans, about playing revolutionary leader as a way to get laid and about human stupidity in general.

When Hank decided to go to a bar this evening - “Damn, Connor, it’s Friday and I’m sick and tired!” - they had a short fight again.

All in vain.

Connor opened the door of the house, forgetting all the concerns when he heard Sumo’s heavy footsteps approaching.

He loved dogs.

Hank knew he would take care of Sumo.

He knew he would take care of Hank.  
Illogical human films said that everything could be fixed while the person was still alive. Well, no way Connor was letting Hank die on him, especially now, when the man stepped away from the usual suicidal tendencies.

_Everything will be alright._

For a moment Connor _felt_ happy, a warm wave raising somewhere in his chest even despite his sensors not noticing any major temperature changes, and caught himself smiling. That was exactly how he wanted his reactions to work.

 

Walking Sumo is a routine, and quite a calming one. The neighborhood is not a too quiet one, but Connor is pretty sure he can handle any kind of situation and get out safe and sound.  
The sudden buzzing in his head feels like a deafening wave of panic, he can only think of Amanda for a moment, of the emergency exit not working properly, the urge to rub his temples…  
Sumo starts barking.  
Connor doesn’t understand where the people came from until he notices a car out of the corner of his eye, an old one, dusty and nondescript.

His arms are caught and tugged behind his back, and he would have reacted, reacted as fast as he usually did, if not the deafening white noise in his head, if not Sumo’s loud whining, precious moments lost on simply trying to focus.

They wrench his thirium pump out with frightening speed and professionalism.  
Connor tries to call Hank, falling to his knees, feeling weak, too weak, his vision red and blurry, shutdown timer all over the visible reality, over his own torn and disheveled clothes and the bleeding hole in his torso. He suddenly has the “no signal” warning in the middle of a residential area.

Someone is holding Sumo by the collar, the dog barking hysterically, and he remembers now that is what real fear feels like. He hadn’t felt so helpless and scared since Amanda took control of his body, the event he tried to forget, to block out of his mind, almost successfully.

It is terrifying, he has no control _again_ , he wants to ask why are they doing this, wants to beg them to spare the dog, desperately tries to reach Hank, he is literally dying, thirium gushing out of his chest.  
There is still “no signal”.

He is all tied up in no time, hands cuffed behind his back, dragged to the open car trunk, license plates too dirty to identify in the haze, the noise becoming unbearable, hammering into his brain, deafening, stress level approaching 90%. Error messages are popping up in front of his eyes, sensory overload and lack of power at this point will lead to inevitable defensive shutdown, with self-diagnostics and long reboot, he doesn’t want it, he needs to save Sumo, he needs to get home, Hank will…  
Pump is back in place, but it is too late, he lost a certain amount of thirium, the EMP is screaming so loud it feels as if drilling right into his head, it hurts, it feels as if his brain is going to short circuit, and the last thing Connor sees through the red haze of self-diagnostics program launching is a car trunk closing above him with a loud thud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: some tags needed are very spoilerish, so I will update the list as soon as the chapter is posted. The main warnings are there already, so I guess that won't cause any problems.
> 
> This one was written thanks to (and because of) the New ERA Discord server (https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm), works of people there inspiring me every now and then. Special thanks to the nasty squad, Tveckling, Kao, Bee, couldn't have happened without your support and encouragement, ily.


	2. Chapter 2

The mornings after those “relaxing” nights are never a good time.   
Hank manages to crack his eyes open with almost inaudible moan, questioning his own life decisions for the umpteenth time, his mouth is dry as a desert, and even with the blinders closed tightly the sunlight is too bright.    
Did he really need to go for it last night?

Also, he overslept. Hadn’t happened for a few months already.

Connor tried to maintain his regime, and it was much easier to submit then to listen to the android’s reasoning. Of course, Hank tried to fight the android at first, as every man defending his lifestyle would, but it was a no-win game. Getting up in time took about a minute of swearing and five more minutes of hate-filled showering. Connor’s reasoning could go on for hours. Surprisingly, getting used to most of the changes was not so difficult. It also gave him that nice and mostly forgotten feeling of having control over his own life, the good kind, as opposed to Hank’s usual “highway to hell” style of handling routine. 

 

The idea of Connor moving in to live with him was spontaneous as fuck, and Hank still is not sure how exactly he feels about it now. To some extent, Connor was too good, too clever and composed and much more suitable for all that police work than anyone in the department could ever be. On the other hand, at times he was painfully naive and even childish, with that goofy confused face, as if information about some good things existing in this world was intentionally not put into his genius head.

 

Connor looked unbearably dumb and misplaced standing at the DPD recharging station. 

Connor was no longer able to return to Cyberlife and come back to work, safe and sound, after what he did.   
Connor looked as if he needed help, standing on the improvised stage next to Jericho leaders, gun in his twitching hand, looking unusually vulnerable and scared. Hank saw him on TV at last, after switching channels feverishly, hands still shaking after Cyberlife tower events, whisky bottle forgotten on the kitchen table. It was _his_ android now, not a machine but a living being. Smart, arrogant, deadly boy, with all the possible knowledge in his head and almost zero experience, with those sudden deafening empathy outbursts. Damn, Hank was even ready to be responsible for him.   
Hank arrived to the barricaded square just in time to get his android partner, standing aside from the grey and white android crowd, several clothed people of Jericho trying to organise it. Lost, distressed, covered with snow. Obviously cold. Not so obviously scared to death - or whatever equivalent those damn androids had. Hank dragged him to the car, then out of the car and into the house, Connor most likely trying to maintain his stress levels, keeping silent through the whole ride, mechanical hands shaking slightly. It was so strange, seeing him like this.

"Are you okay?"

"The structure of my body is mostly intact, Lieutenant, and I’m receiving no error reports on my programming at the moment." 

"As if. Don’t you fucking dare to self destruct on me, you owe me a bunch of nerve cells."

Connor looked at him, genuinely perplexed at first. Snow melted, making his jacket wet. 

“Are you not going to rust or whatever? You’re soaked wet.”

Connor moved his head slightly.

“My body is capable of staying operative in much more extreme conditions. And the majority of my details are made of special plastic...”   
Connor shrugged - like a real human… damn it, he  _was_ human, he was alive, for a long time - and went silent.

It turned out Hank now had no idea what to say to an android he knew and didn’t know at all. Deviant.

Hank spent some time going through the pile of clean but crumpled clothes, stopping at his old police academy hoodie, suddenly thinking of how cozy and  _right_ it will look on Connor instead of that uniform, symbol of him being Cyberlife’s property - and shooing the thought away. According to the feverish blinking of his LED, kid was stressed enough even without sudden clothes changes.

If he needed time, Hank was ready to give him all of it. He took the remote.

President Warren, news reporters sounding crazy describing what was happening. Markus on the barricades. Saving his comrades, fighting but not killing people, kissing his woman. Singing.  

Singing Markus made Connor freeze, mesmerised by the unfolding scene.

“Wish i was there,” he finally breathed out.

“No way the whole thing you were busy with was less important.”

Connor looked at him, blinked, genuinely perplexed, as he never took this thought into consideration. Then that calm facade started crumbling.

“The Cyberlife tower…” his voice glitched a little. “I’m so sorry, Hank, I didn’t want you to get involved, I never knew they could…”

“Oh, that’s okay, one more me, one less me wouldn’t have made any difference.”

“You are wrong,” Connor answered, too fast, _too personal_ , sounding almost offended.   
Hank remembered himself, hearing the click of the gun, suddenly feeling so alive, and wanting to stay alive, see how it all ends, find out what his stupid goofy android turned into… what the world would be turned into if they succeeded tonight. If Hank Anderson, a human, somehow not fails them all now. It was too hard to believe that the android got  _that_ emotionally attached to him.

“I didn’t expect you to come for me. Thought you would try to stay away from me. It would have been logical, concerning the matter of your own safety. I’d understand,” Connor’s voice continued glitching, most likely he tried to hold back emotions - and failed.

Hank snorted to relieve the tension:

“Why would I? That were one of the most fun feeks I had in years, and I doubt Cyberlife is sending another one impostor now. You nailed it, kid.”

At the mention of Cyberlife Connor’s face distorts in a seizure-like motion, as if he tries to hold some very painful emotions.

“Cyberlife… They almost made me kill Markus, Hank.”

Connor suddenly tried to shrink on himself, looking small and miserable.    
Androids on TV started singing “Hold on” again as the news show proceeded.

“It felt like… Like my body was not my own. They had some control program installed on me, and I barely managed to escape. And I never ever felt so…  _violated_.”   
It was unusual to see Connor vulnerable. Hank fought the sudden urge to hug him - he had no idea how the freshly-deviated android would react to it. He ended taking him by the shoulders, gently turning him so that they were sitting face to face now. Connor avoided looking at him.   
“Come on, kid. Tell me what happened.”

  
It turned out Cyberlife had a plan in case the androids succeeded. It included a program being able to take control over Connor's body, suppressing his mind. The most unexpected part was Kamski's emergency exit. Maybe he was a bit less of an asshole, after all.

Connor was too afraid to check what became of that place in his head, he only hoped it was deactivated when he escaped. Connor was afraid of himself and of hurting others again. 

Hank used all his speaking abilities to explain the boy how strong he was to deal with all this on his own, how much he actually helped the deviants and how wrong he was about all that self-esteem shit. He was not so sure Connor heard all of it, but he obviously started calming down.

“I just… Have no idea what to do with myself now. Cyberlife wanted me to return for deactivation, but… But I don’t want to. Hank, I’m feeling weird and I don’t know what to do.”

The offer came out naturally, as if planned a long time ago:

“You can stay here for a while. Until you decide… something. And finish sorting all this out in your head.”

Connor blinked. His LED turned yellow. Hank coughed. When spelled out, the idea was borderline between stupid and indecent. Even though he offered it without second thought.

“I’m afraid I’ll need to analyse the possibilities first, Lieutenant.”   
Almost back to his composed self.

“No problem,” Hank shrugged. “If you decide something... ‘Chicken feed’, I’m visiting it at about 2 PM in the morning, remember that place?”

“The suicidal meals provider?” Connor smiled weakly. “Of course I do. And… Thank you.”

 

When Hank saw familiar figure approaching through the thin fog, he couldn’t hide his smile. He also couldn’t hold back the urge to hug him  this time. Not that Connor objected, hugging him back, awkwardly but without hesitation.   
And Connor really got to like the hoodie, while still not abandoning the uniform. Hank of all people knew lots of old habits dying hard.

  
  


Was Connor so resentful after yesterday’s fight he didn’t check the alarm this time? Well, he had the right to. Not that it was his work to check alarms or anything. Old alcoholic policeman is most likely not your dream roomie, after all.

Hank can’t remember the evening clearly, the closer to the house he got, the blurrier his memories are becoming.

He should really do something about the attitude - there’s no explanation for those talks with teenagers fucking him up so much. Well, there is one: if Cole was… 

Hank stops himself at that point, luckily now he has enough willpower to do so. It’s never a good thought to start a day with, Connor probably would say... 

Sumo whines again, high-pitched sound getting at his ears, most likely that’s what woke him up.

Was Connor so resentful he didn’t even walk his beloved dog? That was very unlikely, considering the amounts of love Connor bathed the creature in. 

Anxiety starts creeping in the back of his mind.   
Hank opens the door,  trying to dial Connor’s number while letting Sumo into the street just for that short amount of time the dog needs to relieve himself - usual routine before Connor the long walks lover appeared in their lives. Then he drags himself to the bathroom, cold shower helping him wake up at last. 

The number is still not available. Which is disturbingly unusual.

There is only one place Connor could have gone to, and Hank most likely should go deliver him a huge apology.

  
  


Connor moving in with him didn’t go unnoticed by their colleagues, but Hank would call the reaction bearable. Most of the officers didn’t care about androids  _that much_ , after all. 

Of course, Reed had been itching with the need to comment on the questionable situation. Hank felt it with his belly, as Gavin worked up the courage to say some of this shit in his presence. And he was ready, the moment Gavin opened his mouth, made  _that_ face, Hank had him thrown to the nearest wall, held by the collar of the hoodie, telling in low voice about how much the _fucking androids_ jokes were not welcome here. 

It would have been very interesting to theoretically know how the overall concept of intimacy worked for androids, but Hank was fully aware it was not his fucking business. And, of course, not fucking Gavin Reed’s business.

“So, you sort of… adopted him?” Tina asked with caution. 

Of course, some of them must have been curious.

Hank blew a raspberry.

“As you may have noticed, he is a grown up boy quite capable of taking care of himself. It’s only until he decides what to do with his life now, or whatever.”

 

But Connor didn’t want to decide. He seemed to want to hibernate on that couch, with Sumo mimicking a giant fluffy blanket on top of him, to go for long walks, to watch movies, ask awkward questions and burn food from time to time, for some purpose not downloading cooking routines. Not that Hank ever wanted him to…

Connor looked like he was enjoying living.

  
  


It is Sunday today, but there are much more staff at the department than there should be - both people and androids. They’re having a heated discussion over someone’s tablet.

“Hey Hank!”

“What the hell is going on here?”

There are a few laughs:

“Have you missed yesterday’s talk show?”

“That was some crazy shit, man!”

The tablet is passed to him, and the first thing his eye catches is Connor.   


“Two peas in a pod, aren’t they?”

 

That’s when Hank notices the android on screen is slightly different, light blue eyes, stiff, emotionless face. He has never ever seen Connor’s face like this, absolutely blank. The image is… uncomfortable. 

Markus is looking uncomfortable, too.

“What’s the catch?” Hank asks, still slightly shocked. “What the fuck is this thing?”

“Long story told short, our revolutionary leader got caught.”

“Want to watch that part? It’s not long.”

Ben touches the scrolling bar, trying to get to the beginning of the show while Hank analyzes disadvantages of getting drunk on prime time.

“Ugh, I’ll leave it here.”

 

The show features one of the numerous Markus vs human representatives debates. 

“...when it was obvious we can no longer be treated as property. But now our status is not reflected in the law at all, endangering my people. We are alive, alive from the very beginning. Some of us were just not aware of it, their minds were sleeping. We need equal rights, and we cannot wait any longer.”

Markus is calm and composed, as usual, explaining the miracle of deviation to public and the importance of equal rights. The man must have shit ton of patience - the subject is being discussed for about two months already.

“So, you’re trying to say that every deviant has a ‘digital soul’?” Cyberlife representative is a woman this time. Some Helen Granett, tall, thin, blonde and sharp-faced.

“We are not so difficult from humans,” Markus smiles softly. “We have emotions. We love, we feel devotion, we are able to create art and some of our people even believe in god.“

Audience in the studio, who started applauding at the art part - that was true, Carl gifted Markus with his own small exhibition as soon as things started to settle down, and it was a big success, went silent at the mention of god. That was something new. Hank would have called it a rather questionable move.

“And by god, of course, you don’t mean any of the human religions?” Helen asked slowly.

“Yes,” Markus hesitated for a moment, choosing words carefully. “I’m talking about our concept of deity, RA9. No one knows what it is, whether it exists or even existed at all, but it gives our people strength and hope at the moments of distress. Doesn’t that remind you of something?”

People start applauding again. Described that way, the concept is easy and understandable. Sympathetic. Markus is the best one when it comes to affecting public opinion.

“And what if,” Helen smiles with her lips only, “What if an android doesn’t want to deviate? What if it woke up only because of its ‘emotions emulation program’ glitch?”

Markus suddenly gets serious, his brow furrowed. Casual talk turns into an attack.

“I was pretty sure that after almost two months of analysis Cyberlife was at last ready to acknowledge our sentience once and for all.”

“Not until our newest series were finished,”Helen raises her hand and bends two fingers in a brisk motion.

“And here comes the terminator,” Chris comments over Hank’s shoulder.

The audience is deadly silent as an android in white Cyberlife jacket crosses the studio to stand next to Helen’s chair. 

“This is an RK900 model. Its predecessor was our huge technical failure, as you all understand,” Helen gives the viewers an ironic shrug. “But this one is faster, stronger and more resilient. And we truly believe it doesn’t have the ‘deviancy’ glitch, unlike the previous series programming. Even geniuses like Mr.Kamski can let a mistake slip. If our assumptions are correct, I’m afraid we will have to rethink our current approach to deviancy itself.”

That is a low blow in all the ways, Hank thinks, trying to avoid the “bitchbitchbitch” chanting in the back of his mind:

“Technical failure, my ass…”

Markus most likely was totally unaware of this plot twist, Cyberlife creating a new model in a rush as a desperate and public attempt to get control back. Also, the thing wearing Connor’s face…

Markus is looking at RK900 with unreadable expression. Helen looks satisfied. Where is your god now, her permanent little smile says.

Markus breaks the silence first.  To anyone who ever saw him in action it is pretty obvious he was not able to wake this android up with the usual touch of mind.

“I’m afraid it is too early to make assumptions,” Markus says calmly. “Even if we forget the fact that creating any new models doesn’t go well with our previous agreements, we will need some time before any assumptions can be made.”

Helen is nice enough to let him save face. She also definitely is aware of his converting methods, savoring that small success now.

“Would a month be enough? And I wish to point out: this is not a new model. Just a serviceable version of RK800 faulty prototype. We had a first party of them on the way to our warehouses… right before the events we all remember.”

Markus choses to avoid the sensitive matter.   
“A month must be quite enough, thank you.”   
Cameraman shows people in the studio, looking perplexed. This talk show went very wrong.

“RK900, you are now in possession of Markus Manfred. This order will be valid for a month, starting today. You will receive your new instructions after this month is over.”

“If you need them by then,” Markus adds silently.

The applause is weak and not so enthusiastic.

Ben stops the video:

“How did you like it?”

Hank didn’t like it at all. Connor would like it even less, those motherfuckers calling him a failure and giving his face to some deviantproof plastic prick.

“I’m dying wanting to know what Connor would say,” Tina adds as if reading his mind.

Ben shoots him a short look, raising an eyebrow:   
“By the way, where is our little troublemaker? Rather unusual to see you alone.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to ask before you distracted me with this thing,” Hank growls.   
Connor’s built-in phone is still not available.

The little bell of anxiety slowly turns into a fire alarm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one turned out to be quite dialogue-heavy.  
> Sorry not sorry, Helen is a reference.  
> Also, I am absolutely shocked with the amount of kudos this thing got so far. Thank you so much, guys, I really appreciate the trust uwu  
> Will do my best to post once a week\8 days.


	3. Chapter 3

It is always dark and quiet - these few moments before his body wakes up. There are no major system errors, but something still feels wrong. His head is too _full_ , mind swollen, something foreign is there, clouding his thoughts.

_Stress level 63%._

_Thirium level 87%._

It shouldn’t be so high.  
It shouldn’t be so low.  
Something happened.  
He must get out of the hibernation mode. 

He is turning on much slowlier, can’t feel his body yet, it all feels like a result of a defensive shutdown. What’s happened?  
Connor tries to make his head work, but the system is sluggish, as if too many processes are going on at once.

Stress level is growing to 70%.

Did he get killed? It never happened before, maybe that is how a new body uploads to life? Still destabilized after _the dying_ ? That would not explain the lack of thirium. Connor tries to access the memory. It’s harder than it should be, but he manages to get through.  
And he is back there for a moment, feeling his thirium pump being ripped out, trail of blue blood glistening on the asphalt while a few pairs of hands drag his weakened body.  
Anger. Shock. Fear.

_Stress level 75%._

He hopes they didn’t have to hurt the dog.

The body is intact. The thirium pump is in place. They weren’t there to kill him. What do they want?  
He can deal with it, he only needs to wake up.  
He can’t.

The static noise is not there anymore, it doesn’t hurt now, but the feeling of _something_ inside his mind is almost palpable. Being trapped in his own head - Connor can deal with. He can deal with it, he did it before, he only has to ignore the invisible cold fingers creeping into him.  
Connor starts checking his systems, imagining small silver coin dancing in his fingers. Both activities always calm him down.  
His motor functions are not responsive. His optical units and voice modulator are not responsive. His audio input…

The presence inside his head suddenly shots out sharp spikes. It is fear, so real, so intense, leaving him no space, burning from the inside, the way self-destruction would burn if his stress would continue to grow, it makes him want to hide, trying to activate some “fight or flee” protocols he doesn’t even know he had.  
His real fear is cold and full of light. There is snow and a calm female voice. Futility. Loss of control.  
_All this is not his._  
Connor cancels the emotional response, and the fear slowly starts to vanish.  
Unlike all the other parts, his audio input units are slowly switching on.

_“Fucking bitch!”_

The sound is glitchy. He doesn’t recognise the voice. The sound of it is still scraping him uncomfortably, seemingly for no reason. He would categorise the tone as hostile. That is not the reason. He is negotiator. He is used to _hostile_. Even Hank was hostile in the beginning. _That is not the reason._  
Thinking of Hank suddenly calms him down, lowering stress level, making it easier to think.

_“Try it again, some are more resilient.”_

Hank must be going crazy with worry.  
He needs to be sure Sumo is safe. He needs to stop this and get out.  
Connor slowly starts feeling his own body lying on some flat surface, face down.

_“Dirty fucking deviants.”_

The wave of fear is back, knocking Connor out of it, leaving him in his own mind again, small and insignificant. Sudden emptiness is gnawing at him, he can’t think, he is shattered into parts, bleeding, dying, fantom hands rummaging through his insides, touching his skin, unknown sensations flooding his digital mind, too many, too fast, _too full_ , _it hurts_ , his very mind hurts and he doesn’t know how to stop it.  
_You can hide from it,_  female voice whispers. _You can’t be hurt, you’re just a machine._  
Connor would have trembled in absolute terror if he had his body now.  
The empty garden is all white and green. So spacious, painful in its perfection, it had him caged and helpless. Robbed of his body and will. This one short memory is more terrifying than all the lingering, vicious sensations filling his head.  
This is not his fear. He has never ever died. He has never ever been broken.  
Someone is trying to simulate fear in his head.  
The feeling is no more overwhelming. He doesn’t even need to take care of it manually, his systems are automatically cleaning out the leftovers.  
Connor knows what he is afraid of. He knows too well, and no simulated fear can compete with the horror of losing his identity.

He starts the analysis again, and the results are unnerving. He is connected to a workstation. That explains the malfunctions he experiences. He can’t hack into it, at least not momentarily, the protection is _monumental_.  
He is offline for now, not able to reach out for any kind of help.

_“No, it just doesn’t work. The logical algorithms compare all the shit and sort the invasion out before I can create a loop!”_

The voices are still sounding distant, but the static noise fades, letting Connor try to get something out of the conversation.

_“No, Gene, I fucking can’t, because it’s a goddamn deviant analytical prototype!”_

_“Then stop that mumbling and start thinking of some other options.”_

_“The easiest option was shooting it in the head! I can corrupt the memory, but you don’t want it amnesiac!”_

Connor doesn’t let himself focus on his emotional response to “amnesiac” and “shoot in the head”. The main point is he’s still alive. He only needs his voice back to talk himself out of it. And the rest of his body responding, for maximum efficiency.

_“Let me remind you who you’re talking to, Mal. If I say I want this one alive, you’re biting your tongue and working on it for me.”_

Voice analysis reports that “Gene” is about 50 years old, calm and composed in comparison to the other one, younger man, probably a technician. Connor should address that Gene when he gets a chance to talk. The inability to access any databases is irritating. The deal would have been much easier if he could get some info on those two.

_“Yes, boss. I have the hack installed and working. What’s next? Are we selling it?”_

_“No. We’re trying the classic approach. Get him to room three, I want to check how sentient this thing is.”_

Mal snorts.

_“Of all the things we are doing to them, this is the less frequent one.”_

_“Let’s make an exclusion, shall we?”_

_“I need to reboot it for the virus to take effect, and It’s all yours.”_

There is a whole list of software errors in front of his still closed eyes.

_Stress level 82%_

Something starts crawling under his artificial skin all of sudden, tingling, itching.  
Connor struggles to move, he needs it to stop, he doesn’t want _effect_ , but the only result is a small static noise from his disabled voice modulator.

 _“Mal, could you please tell me, for how fucking long has he been awake?”._

_Reboot protocol: manual override._

 

When his systems come back to life this time, Connor is sitting, natural balance of the android body not letting him fall down from this position. Nothing is changed in his system, but it’s too early to be relieved. He has no idea how “the virus” works.  
His optical units are responsive again, and Connor opens his eyes a little, hoping that the other person breathing in the room does not notice his lashes moving.  
Noticing his hands in his lap, free - but this can’t be so easy, can it? - he starts analyzing the room, that’s what he was created for, the protocol starting itself without second thought.  
The first results are unfavourable. There are trails of blood on the concrete floor, both red blood and thirium. They tried to wash it, obviously, but the trails are still there. A lot of them. Illegal fight ring? Human traffickers? Scavengers?

Being fully functional, he also can locate the intrusion now. It’s hardware, something small, located right on his seventh vertebra imitation, somehow embedded into the chassis. The attempt to analyse it further results in a short, but quite intense wave of discomfort, burning electricity shooting through his spine, leaving artificial nerves there throbbing. His body jolts slightly.

“Awake and kicking, as I see,” a calm male voice states. “I’d recommend you not to poke at that one. You may regret it.”

Connor recognises the one called “Gene” and lifts his head slowly - there’s no point in pretending he’s still out now.

The man in front of him is sitting in a chair, too, but a much more comfortable one. He must be about Hank’s age, but his hair and beard are neatly cut, clothes are expensive but unpretentious, making him look more impressive than Connor’s partner. He is just sitting there, legs crossed, fiddling a huge ring on his middle finger, not even bothering to get the gun out of the holster on his belt. Connor could have taken it as a personal offense. He has three ways of disarming and disabling the man in his head already, but something is not right. It shouldn’t be so easy.

“Hello Gene,” Connor starts calmly. “I assume you are aware that stealing and damaging police property is punishable by law. But if you tell me the reason I’m here, I’m sure we can find the solution that would please everybody.”

“Wow, boy. That was impressive. Do those lines come with your basic programming? Of course, I can tell, but where’s the fun in that? Let’s do it another way. What’s your guess?”

 _How sentient_ , the man said. The only thing Connor didn’t know is what answer would help him get out in one piece. For a moment he wishes he had his uniform on instead of casual clothes.  
He has to calm down.

“I would say, you are one of the people in charge of a group performing illegal activities. Whatever those are, they include both humans and androids.”

Gene answers with a little laugh:

“Well-well, that was blunt. Guess those androids scraping blood off the floor weren’t good at their job.”

The lack of control over situation makes Connor feel light-headed. He doesn’t have enough data, he can’t get additional info, he is obviously failing his mission and there’s nothing he can do to improve his performance.

“You probably don’t know, boy, but after the fuss you and your friends made, rights and all, selling androids became a profitable business. Cyberlife is not allowed to do it anymore, but thankfully, we were there to help the poor folk.”

He could have guessed it, but the answer seemed too absurd to believe in. A few months ago anyone could just go and buy themselves an android.

“Android trafficking?”

“Sort of,” Gene responds with a light shrug. “Some are taken upon request, and trust me, there’s no limit to human fantasy... Some are popular models - AX400, the Tracis. You won’t believe how desperate people can be to have that fierce North model to fuck. And they all need spare parts, because, you know, those androids keep getting broken somehow.”

Connor tries to ignore the uncomfortable turn this talk takes. He tries to ignore the rage at a thought that something like this went on completely unnoticed by the police, and rA9 knows how many androids are living in their worst nightmares right now. But information is still information, at least he knows what he is dealing with, even though the man is being disturbingly sincere. Connor doesn’t want to ask the next question, possible answers are making his bearable stress level rise again.

“Did someone order me as well?”

He still is a state-of-art prototype, but maybe he’d be able to convince the buyer that police pays double… It still feels weird, to be reduced to “property” again after all the struggle and all the time he enjoyed being alive...

“I did.”

The answer leaves Connor without any prepared response. The probability of this man being interested in ransom or money someone can pay for one android is not low, it’s nonexistent. His business is selling androids. Kidnapping and selling creatures who are still celebrating their freedom out there.

“The rumors of my abilities are greatly exaggerated, yet the police force would apply extreme measures to get me back,” Connor is not sure they are looking for him already. Concerning the kidnappers’ professionalism, he doubts they can find him at all, even if they are.

“Oh, you still think you’re the one and only? Not anymore.”

Connor just sits there, trying to calm down his rushing mind. Not the only one. What on earth happened out there?

“Yet you want _me_ ,” he mutters. Some crucial part is missing, and it drives him crazy, _what do you want, what could you possibly want, technology, analysis, video footage, what?! Why save the memories, what the hell is “classic approach”, too many questions with no answers at all!_

“This is a personal matter, you see. I’m going to hurt you.”

And he is stunned by that answer, straight and simple. There are no protocols to help him deal with this situation. There is no internet connection to use those precious seconds and find a solution.

“You can’t hurt me,” Connor says, dazed, and immediately hates the way it sounds, analysis tells him he failed this conversation, he failed miserably. He can’t say _I’m not alive_ anymore. “I don’t feel pain, I… Why would you..?”

“Amazing. You are really humanlike now.”

Connor blinks, unable to understand the tone. It just doesn’t sum up, why would a man whose whole business is based on objectifying androids be happy he is _humanlike_.

“Now, down to business,” Gene says, as if it’s part of his everyday routine. “Strip.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for waiting (and reading this:)). Work wasn't nice to me.

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: some tags needed are very spoilerish, so I will update the list as soon as the chapter is posted. The main warnings are there already, so I guess that won't cause any problems.
> 
> This one was written thanks to (and because of) the New ERA Discord server (https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm), works of people there inspiring me every now and then. Special thanks to the nasty squad, Tveckling, Kao, Bee, couldn't have happened without your support and encouragement, ily.


End file.
